


Final Words

by Schattengestalt



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blow Jobs, Dogs, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Growing Old Together, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Pining John, Pining Sherlock Holmes, Retirement, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Sussex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-11 07:16:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17442377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schattengestalt/pseuds/Schattengestalt
Summary: The words that appear on your left forearm on the day of your birth are yourSoul Tattoo. They will show you who your soulmate is. They will also be the last words your soulmate ever speaks to you in this life.John always fears to hear the words that are tattooed on his forearm. It's of no help that they are extremely commonplace.





	1. Fateful Marks

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea to this story from a prompt on tumblr and I am curious how you like it.^^ It will be a happy story, I promise.  
> I will add tags as the story progresses.

### Fateful Marks

The crime scene was gruesome. John had lost count how many officers had already run outside to vomit. He would have probably joined them if he had got the chance to eat anything this morning. As it was Sherlock had woken him in the early morning without giving him the time to even have a cup of tea. John had been pissed at the time but now he was glad that he only had to swallow down some bile from time to time. 

 

A shudder ran down his back as he took in the wall above the bed that was covered in the blood of the couple that had lived there. It wasn't even the worst to look at in the room but it spoke of the brutality of the murderer just like the disfigured bodies of the victims did. One woman was lying on the bed while the other one was lying next to it. Sherlock could probably deduce the motives from how the killer had cut off the left breasts of both women and skinned their left arms. John only saw mindless brutality though and he hoped that his friend would find something soon so that they could leave this nightmarish scene.

 

"Anything yet, Sherlock?" Obviously Greg was thinking along the same lines as John as he addressed the consulting detective who was inspecting the skinned arms of the victims.

 

"Not sure but... I need pictures!"

 

"Pictures?" Greg echoed and John had to hide a grin as Sherlock rolled his eyes at him. "Yes, pictures of the victims. Preferably of their left forearms. You know, the part where everyone has their Soul Tattoos?"

 

A cold shiver ran through John's body as he rubbed absentmindedly over his left forearm where the last words of his soulmate were tattooed into his skin. It was a cruel joke of fate that someone would only know who their soulmate was when it was already too late. The words that appeared on everybody's skin after their birth were the last words their soulmate would ever speak to them. They heard these words and knew that a certain person was meant for them but by then it was already too late. They would never speak to each other again in this life. One - or sometimes both of them - would die before they had the chance to meet or speak again.

 

John didn't see the sense in it. Why would anyone ever want to know who their soulmate was if they couldn't be together afterwards? In his mind such a finding only led to despair and pain. He didn't know what he would do if he ever found his soulmate only to lose them right in this moment. It was much too painful a possibility to think about and yet John had probably given it more thought than most people because the words on his arm were... so common.

 

He withstood the temptation to roll his sleeves back to peer at the two innocent looking words on his skin. On the one hand it would look strange at the crime scene and on the other hand... John didn't want to risk that someone played a cruel joke on him. It had happened before and... No, he didn't want to think about it.

 

John shook his head to push his dark thoughts away and forced himself to focus his attention on Sherlock who was looking through an album of some sorts.

 

"You believe these two were soulmates then? But how does this help us to solve the case?"

 

An exasperated sigh fell from Sherlock's lips as he turned around to raise an eyebrow at John before he focused back on the album in his hands. "I am 98.2 % sure that these two were soulmates and that the words on their arms will give us an idea of what happened here. They might even lead us to their killer."

 

"What about the remaining 1.8 %?" John forced himself to focus on the subject at hand instead of dwelling on what the women might have had written on their skin. The possibilities were endless and one worse than the other.

 

"There is a slim chance that one of the woman was the soulmate to our killer and that he only skinned both their arms to distract us. I highly doubt that though."

 

John barely managed to swallow down the bile that rose up in his throat at that. The idea to lose your soulmate to a violent crime was bad enough but to imagine that you were the one to kill them...

 

"I've got it!"

John heaved a sigh of relief at Sherlock's triumphant cry and hurried to his friend's side as he hold his magnifier over a picture of the two women. On one arm the words read I heard the door downstairs and the others said: "It's Mika!"

 

"Who is Mika?" Greg's voice sounded from far away as John could only stare at the tiny words on the victims arms on the picture. At least one of them must have suspected that she or her soulmate would die a violent death. What other explanation could you come up with for the words I heard the door downstairs?

 

"A lot," Sherlock murmured next to him and John only realised that he must have spoken his thoughts aloud as his friend led him out of the room with a hand on his elbow. "Maybe she believed that her soulmate would have a heart attack while checking on the door or..."

 

"That's not a very comforting thought," John replied even as he took a deep, thankful breath as they left the crime scene behind them.

 

"It can be." Sherlock shrugged. "If she believed that they were both old and had lived together for decades, it doesn't sound so bad anymore."

 

"You're right."

 

"I always am."

 

Sparkling blue eyes met his and a laughter was torn from John's lips as he shook his head at Sherlock. "No, you aren't. Remember the time when you said that the jam hadn't been contaminated by your experiments and you suffered from diarrhoea for the next couple of days?!"

 

Colour rose in pale cheeks and John marveled at it before his friend turned away abruptly with a huff and tried to hail down a taxi.

 

"I meant I am right about important things," John heard Sherlock mutter under his breath. A small smile flickered over his face as he climbed in the taxi that had stopped at the kerb. It was almost scary how Sherlock so often managed to get him to smile at crime scenes but John wouldn't complain about it. It was much better to think about the eccentric behaviour of his friend than about brutally murdered soulmates. No matter that the memory of Sherlock shitting and puking his insides out wasn't the funniest one... and certainly not the sexiest one. If John had to come up with one that fell into the latter category he would go for the time when Sherlock had run naked and wet into the kitchen to check on one of his experiments while John had prepared tea. Needless to say that said tea had gone cold by the time John re-emerged from his bedroom after getting an eyeful of Sherlock's... everything.

 

"Are you alright, John? Your breathing sounds funny."

 

Sherlock's deep voice brought John back to reality and he nodded hastily at his friend's inquiry. The last thing he needed was for Sherlock to deduce that John had got off to memories of his friend's naked body. He could only imagine the shock and disgust with which Sherlock would react to such a revelation. His friend had made it clear that he wasn't interested in relationships - or sex - when they had first met and John would respect that. He had to if he didn't want to lose Sherlock's friendship.

 

Goosebumps rose all over his body as he imagined how life would be without Sherlock in it. The idea felt worse than the possibility of one day losing his faceless soulmate.

 

"Are you sure you are alright? You're shivering."

 

John glanced up to meet worried blue eyes and forced a reassuring smile onto his lips. "I'm fine just... too little sleep and the crime scene didn't really help either."

 

Guilt flickered through the depths of blue eyes at that but was replaced with curiosity a second later. Sherlock's gaze swept over John and he only hoped that his friend wouldn't deduce his best hidden desires as Sherlock's eyes narrowed at him. "The blood and the gore weren't the worst for you. You have seen worse mutilated bodies during your tour in Afghanistan." The cabbie didn't even flinch at Sherlock's words and John wondered for a second what else the man had witnessed in this taxi to remain so calm in the face of such a conversation. He didn't get the chance to ask him as Sherlock continued his thoughtful monologue. "You were on the verge of retching the whole time but it got worse when we realised that the victims had been soulmates. I assume that there have been some experiences that have made you more sensitive to the topic of Soul Tattoos."

 

John frowned at Sherlock's careful wording. His friend usually didn't hold himself back when he had deduced something and he certainly wasn't doing tact.

 

"You already know what happened."

 

Sherlock shrugged and glanced out of the car's window over John's head. "I have a good idea but I have learned that it's not an easy topic to discuss."

 

Sorrow flickered through blue eyes before the feeling was masked again and John bit his lip to keep himself from asking what Sherlock's story was. Obviously John wasn't the only one who reacted sensitive to the topic of Soul Tattoos. Sherlock was just better at hiding his feelings.

 

Instead of going down that rabbit hole John squared his shoulders and glanced straight ahead as he recalled one of his life-changing events that was directly related to Soul Tattoos. He just hoped that the remaining half an hour taxi ride would be long enough for him to finish this story as John was unwilling to take this conversation to their flat.

 

"Harry?"

John called out for his sister as he entered their house. He hung up his jacket and then made his way through the rooms downstairs to look for his sister. It was already early afternoon and while Harry was known for sleeping in late after going out, John was still worried. Usually he received some sign of life from her when he got ready at Sunday's for his part-time job at the nearby coffee shop. Either he heard some snoring coming from her closed bedroom door or she would curse at him for being too loud before going back to sleep. This morning though John hadn't heard a single peep from her. He wouldn't have been this worried if he hadn't heard her coming home relatively early last night. Usually Harry didn't make it in before the early hours of the morning. Therefore it was worrisome that she had been home at barely past midnight.

"Harry?" John called once more and knocked on his sister's door.

"Go away," came the muffled reply and John would have obeyed if it hadn't been for the sob that followed Harry's words.

"Harry?!" His sister never cried or at least John couldn't remember the last time that she had shed a single tear. Therefore if she sat in her room and sobbed her eyes out something had to be terribly wrong. "What happened? Are you alright? Are you hurt? What..."

"I met my soulmate!"

The rest of his words died in John's throat as the door was thrown open and he got to look at Harry's tear streaked face. 

"I met her and now she is dead!" Another sob shook Harry's body and John stood helpless as he didn't know what to do. They weren't really close and certainly not in the business of hugging each other but he felt like he needed to comfort her somehow.

"What happened?"

It was the stupidest question he could have asked John realised as Harry glared at him through red-rimmed eyes.

"What do you think happened?!" A bitter laugh fell from her lips followed by a pained sob. "You know my Soul Tattoo." She pushed her left arm up on which the words "Let's jump!" were to read. As soon as John had been old enough to comprehend what these words could imply he had been afraid for his sister. At least his worst fear hadn't come true because Harry obviously hadn't jumped down from somewhere with her soulmate. Or if she had, she had survived it. Wisely John kept these thoughts to himself as he waited for Harry to tell him the whole story.

"Some friends and I were out. We had something to drink and then... we came to this bridge and Mara... she said that and then she jumped." More tears ran down his sister's face and John searched for something... anything he could say to make her hurt less.

"Are you sure that she was your soulmate? You weren't the only two there after all and..."

"No one else had her last words tattooed on their arms," Harry hissed at him. "And she had "No, Mara! Nooooo!" tattooed on her arm. Guess who was the only one to scream that at her?!"

"Harry..." John tried helplessly but was interrupted when a door was slammed in his face.

"Leave me alone! At least you will be able to pretend that you have never met your soulmate as common as your words are! Maybe you have already met them and you will never know!"

John swallowed down the anger and hurt at Harry's words as he forced himself to walk away from her room. 

 

"I assume that's when the drinking started."

 

John glanced up to meet Sherlock's compassionate eyes and nodded. "That's when it started in earnest. Before that she only drunk at parties but then... It got better for a while when she was with Clara but it didn't stay that way for long. Meeting her soulmate completely ruined her life." John held his breath as he waited for Sherlock to point out the flaws in that logic. After all not everyone became an alcoholic after they had met and lost their soulmate but yet again his friend surprised him.

 

"It was the same for Mycroft."

 

The words threw John for a loop as he repeated them in his head. Somehow he couldn't imagine how losing his soulmate had ruined Mycroft's life. The man was as powerful as one could get and...

 

"Mycroft wasn't always so cold," Sherlock spoke as if he had read John's mind. "He helped me with my experiments whenever he came back from university. He was kind and patient but then... he was dating this guy, Daniel. They were talking on the phone. Daniel said the words of Mycroft's Soul Tattoo and crashed into a lorry. Of course my brother looked at his body at the morgue and on his arm were the last words that Mycroft had ever said to him. That's when he decided that caring wasn't an advantage."

 

There was a world of hurt hidden in Sherlock's words and John didn't know what to say. If Mycroft had turned into the cold-hearted prick that he was now when Sherlock had been used to a caring and loving brother that must have been terrible. John's heart went out to the young man from back then who had lost the brother he had known to such a tragedy.

 

Carefully he placed his left hand on top of Sherlock's and smiled compassionately as he met his friend's surprised face. "I am sorry."

 

"Thank you."

 

They sat in silence for some time. John would have gladly spent the remaining car ride like this - finally allowed to touch Sherlock for a little while - when his friend broke the silence.

 

"There are more reasons as to why the whole soulmate thing is a touchy subject for you."

 

It wasn't a question but John still felt compelled to reply. It was the least he could do to take Sherlock's mind off his brother.

 

"David! Mike! Over here!" John waved to his two best friends as they made their way over to him. They had all just survived their final exams and were only one year of on-site training away from becoming doctors. 

In John's eyes this was a reason to celebrate. Especially as they had all been holed up in their rooms or the library for the last several months.

"John, good to see you." Mike hugged him and slapped him on the back while David only gave him a tight smile.

John frowned slightly at David's strange behavior but before he could ask if something was wrong Mike spoke again. "I am going to hit the gym now." He rubbed his belly with a cheeky grin. "I have eaten too much chocolates while studying."

"Alright." John couldn't deny that his friend had grown a size since they had started with the preparations for the exam but he wasn't stupid enough to say anything along these lines. "Meet you at our pub for a little celebration at eight."

Mike nodded. "See you then."

David hadn't said anything the whole time and when John turned to him he saw the most shattered expression on his friend's face. "What's wrong?"

For a second John believed that David wouldn't answer him but then a deep sigh fell from his lips and he motioned for John to sit down on a bench.

"It's my Soul Tattoo," he started and John felt a shiver ran down his back. If David had found and lost his soulmate that would certainly explain his strange mood.

"I didn't meet them but... look!"

John could only stare as David rolled back his sleeve and presented his Soul Tattoo to him. It was some kind of taboo to show it to someone else but John forgot all about that when he read the words on his friend's arm: "Please, take care of our children."

"Dear God," he breathed before he could stop himself but David only gave him a grim smile.

"I have worn this Soul Tattoo my whole life but only now did I realise what it means. I will meet my soulmate, live with them and have children with them and then... they will die. And they will be aware of it. I don't know why I only realised this now but..."

"Hey David." John placed a hand on his shoulder as he tried to find the words to comfort his friend. "It's not going to happen for years to come and at least you know that you will have some years together. It's better than having Here is your change, sir or Would you like some nose candy as your Soul Tattoo."

 

John had met people with such tattoos - it was hard not to see them when you were sleeping together - and he had always felt sorry for them. Judging from David's grimace though he thought differently about that.

"In these cases you learn that a complete stranger was your soulmate and you never see them again. It might be hard but you have probably someone else at home that you love. You lose the potential for a relationship with your soulmate, yes but... you haven't loved them beforehand."

John opened his mouth and closed it again as nothing to say came to his mind. David shrugged and patted John's back as he got up from the bench. A forced smile turned his lips upwards as he turned to go.

"We will meet you at the pub this evening," John called after him and David nodded as he walked off still with this terrifying smile on his face.

 

"He killed himself."

 

John didn't even have to ask how Sherlock knew that. It was obvious. It should have been obvious to him back then when he had had the chance to stop his friend from committing suicide. As it was John still wondered sometimes if he could have done more. If anything that he could have said or done would have stopped David. And others times John understood why in some cultures the parents cut or burned the skin of their newborns were their Soul Tattoos were. It saved them from a lot of grief although... John was against performing body alerting operations on someone who couldn't consent to them. Still something like that might have saved David's life.

 

"Obviously killing yourself is a way to cheat fate... or whatever is responsible for the Soul Tattoos."

 

The statement earned him a nod from Sherlock but otherwise his friend remained silent and John was grateful for that. He was aware that Sherlock had probably read a dozen research reports about how Soul Tattoos might be linked to someone's genetic make-up and his friend was always eager to share his knowledge. Therefore it meant even more to John that they continued their ride to Baker Street in comfortable silence.

 

"60 quid, mates."

 

John didn't even raise an eyebrow at the amount they had to pay as he handed over the money to the cabbie. The crime scene and reliving a couple of his worst memories had drained him too much to worry about money.

 

They made their way upstairs and while Sherlock darted right towards his microscope John decided that he would get a couple of hours more sleep. Who knew if Sherlock wouldn't wake him up for another case the following night.

 

"I'm going to sleep for a couple of hours. Please no loud experiments or angry violin music if you can help it," John called over his shoulder as he made his way to his bedroom. He was already at his door when Sherlock called back to him. The words he used were the exact same ones that had marked John's forearm since his birth.

 

"Goodnight, John."


	2. The Vow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope to post the final chapter next week seeing as I only have some editing left to do.^^ For the time being enjoy this chapter! =)

### The Vow

Sherlock had barely sat down behind his microscope when hasty steps sounded on the stairs. He frowned even as he tried to decide what to experiment on next. John had appeared tired and drained when they had got back so Sherlock had assumed that he would fall asleep as soon as he laid down in bed. Though maybe his friend had decided that he needed a cup of tea - chamomile - to relax before going to bed. But no John's footsteps sounded too hurried as he appeared to run through the living-room. He might have to use the toilet then Sherlock decided just as his friend stepped into the kitchen.

 

"Sherlock!"

 

The cry held equivalents of both relief and panic and Sherlock looked up in surprise at it. There was no way that John had fallen asleep and experienced a nightmare in the two minutes that he had been gone from Sherlock's sight. Nevertheless his friend looked like he had seen a ghost. His skin was pale and his eyes looked haunted as he stumbled a few more steps into Sherlock's direction.

 

"Say something!"

 

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the strange request and got up from his chair to get a closer look at his friend.

 

"John," he started only to be interrupted by a strange noise that sounded like a mixture of a sob and a laugh.

 

"Oh, thank God!"

 

Sherlock's eyebrows climbed even higher as he tried to wrap his mind around what was happening here. It was rare that he was clueless as to what was going on and he absolutely hated the feeling. Whenever he believed that he had deciphered the mystery that was John Watson his friend did something completely surprising. Usually Sherlock enjoyed this challenge but today his friend was acting absolutely illogical. His behaviour didn't make any sense at all and...

 

"I thought I had lost you!"

 

Sherlock didn't get the chance to analyse John's words as he found himself with an armful of his friend a second later. Dry lips pressed against his in a hard and determined kiss but then were gone again a second later.

 

"What..." Sherlock couldn't even seem to form a coherent sentence as he stared at John who had let go of him but still stood only a foot away from him. The panicked look from earlier had been replaced by a sheepish expression but he didn't avert his eyes as Sherlock looked directly at him.

 

"You... kissed me." Sherlock cringed at how stupid this obvious statement sounded. He barely kept himself from bringing his hand up to touch his lips. They still felt like they were tingling although Sherlock knew that this was impossible. Lips didn't tingle from a single kiss. Not even when said kiss had been given to him by his best friend. It also didn't matter that Sherlock had longed for such a kiss ever since John had shot the cabbie for him and saved his life. Lips just didn't tingle and there was no need to touch them and...

 

"Sorry." John bit down on his lower lip. A nervous habit that Sherlock had often witnessed when John felt embarrassed. He just hoped that this didn't mean that his friend regretted the kiss because while Sherlock still hadn't figured out what had brought this sudden action on he would certainly like to repeat it.

 

"I was just so relieved that I hadn't heard the last from you after all."

 

Sherlock blinked.

 

"You..." His mind seemed to take longer to process the given information and come to a conclusion. When it finally did though everything became crystal clear.

 

"I see," Sherlock spoke to the ground as disappointment pushed away his former happiness. "I spoke the words of your Soul Tattoo and you were afraid that I was your soulmate. You're relieved that you were wrong."

 

Sherlock didn't dare look at John for fear of what he would see in his face as he turned back to his microscope. He shouldn't have got his hopes up just because his friend had kissed him. It was a complete natural action brought on by the adrenalin that had certainly coursed through John's veins at the time. It was illusionary of him to believe that anyone would want to kiss him... or like the idea of being his soulmate. He should have learned this much years ago.

 

"You weren't in your room last night, Holmes."

Sherlock ignored Sebastian as he sat down in the lecture theatre and hoped that their professor would turn up on time for a change. He didn't fancy having to deal with Sebastian and his friends for longer than necessary.

When they had first started university together Sebastian had tried to convince Sherlock that they were friends. It went without saying that he had only gone to such lengths because he had wanted Sherlock's help to pass his courses. For some time Sherlock had accepted the deal: Sebastian's companionship in exchange for getting the rich snob through university. It had lasted until Sebastian had decided that Sherlock's deductions were mere "tricks" and had started to make fun of him. There were some things that Sherlock could tolerate but someone that ridiculed his intellect was not on that list. After he had made this clear and had stopped to help Sebastian it hadn't taken long for him and his friends to decide that Sherlock was the new target for their stupid, verbal attacks.

"Did you go out to suck some cock?"

Sherlock only raised an eyebrow at Marc's - or was it Marcel's - unoriginal remark but refrained from pointing out that he knew more about giving blowjobs than Sherlock did.

"Nah, he wouldn't look so gloom then."

"Maybe he met his soulmate."

The last remark was met with laughter and Sherlock rolled his eyes at their stupid antics. Really couldn't they think of something better? Besides it was very unlikely that his soulmate would be a complete stranger going by his Soul Tattoo. Not that he would ever tell them so but it still made their insults pointless.

"In that case we only have to find someone who is extremely happy - without being high - to know who it was," Sebastian added to the conversation. "After all they know that they will never have to speak with him again. Just imagine how lucky they are that they will never have to deal with his freakishness. I am sure that his soulmate will never mourn the day that they found out what they were to each other. They will celebrate that day."

Sebastian's words were followed by the laughter of his friends but Sherlock didn't show any reaction as he stared straight ahead. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of showing them how deep their words cut. They came much too close to his own thoughts to be easily dismissed. Who would ever want to be his soulmate?!

 

"Sherlock... Okay, it's getting scary now."

 

Slowly Sherlock came back to the present from his trip down memory lawn and met John's worried gaze. A smile turned his lips upwards when Sherlock returned his look.

 

"There you are. You were gone for at least five minutes."

 

"Mind Palace," Sherlock replied shortly and turned to hide away in his room to lick his wounds when John's hand closed around his wrist.

 

"Wait! What you said before... that I was relieved that you aren't my soulmate that's... well, not exactly not true but..."

 

Sherlock sighed quietly. Sometimes it would be much easier if John was at least a little more like Sebastian. At least he had never needed to wait for Sebastian to stammer through an apology.

 

"It's fine, John." Sherlock forced his lips upwards to imitate a smile. "I know that I am no one's desired soulmate."

 

The words had barely left Sherlock's mouth when John's eyes widened to the point that they appeared to be in danger of falling out. "You're such an idiot!" His friend shook his head at him. A mixture of exasperation, fondness and sympathy written all over his face. "Have you forgotten how the Soul Tattoos work?!"

 

Sherlock opened his mouth to reply only to be interrupted by John's ongoing rant. "If this had been the moment in which it was revealed that we were soulmates then we wouldn't be talking right now. We would have never talked to each other again and we would have never seen each other alive. I am not happy that you aren't my soulmate - which isn't actually proven by this. I am so happy because I feared that I had lost you but I was wrong. You are still here and..."

 

"You kissed me because you were happy," Sherlock concluded as his friend's words were processed by his brain.

 

A slow grin spread over Sherlock's face even as he looked at John in awe. His friend hadn't been glad that they weren't soulmates but that they could still spend time together. If Sherlock was honest with himself than he was thankful for that too. Of course that didn't mean that John felt the same way as he did. He had made it clear quite often that he wasn't gay and...

 

"I kissed you because I wanted to." This simple sentence threw Sherlock's conclusions for another loop. The blush that crept into John's cheeks confused him even more and he could only listen speechlessly as his friend continued. "I have wanted to kiss you for a long time. I guess..." John scratched his head in embarrassment. "The idea that I would never get to do it was enough to... Er, make me do it. Kiss you, I mean."

 

Sherlock knew that he should say or do something now. There had to be rules for this kind of situation. "How to react when your best friend confesses that he has wanted to kiss you for a long time after he has kissed you." The fast search of his Mind Palace to this topic didn't get Sherlock any results. How should it when he hadn't even believed that he would ever have a friend until John had come along? It hadn't been necessary to store information on the topic of romantic relationships - at least none that weren't related to crimes. And while Sherlock had firsthand experiences when it came to kissing as a prelude to sex this knowledge didn't help him here.

 

"I am sorry. I shouldn't have done it."

 

It took Sherlock some time to understand John's apology but he shook his head vehemently when he did. "No, don't apologize. This... what you did," Sherlock gestured helplessly to his lips. "This was... good."

 

Sherlock cringed at his stupid stammering. Of all the times when his eloquence could leave him it had to be this moment. It couldn't have been at a crime scene or at a press conference. No it had to be during his most important conversation with John. If his friend had ever wanted him he certainly would reconsider it now. Who would want to be with someone who couldn't even formulate a complete sentence only because they were a little nervous?!

 

"So, it's fine that I kissed you?"

 

Then again Sherlock mused he also still wanted to be with someone who asked obvious questions so he might still have a chance. "Fine and... it would be even better if you did it again."

 

Sherlock waited with bated breath as John's expression changed from confused to surprised and finally settled on delighted. 

 

"Do you mean that?"

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes at that. "Do I ever say something that I don't mean?"

 

The question was only out for a second when Sherlock noticed his mistake as a sparkle entered John's eyes. He opened his mouth - probably to remind Sherlock of all the times he had told him that he would get the milk - but Sherlock was faster. His mouth sealed John's lips before his friend could even start to tease him.

 

There was no protest forthcoming as Sherlock moved his lips against John's and he relaxed even more when his friend returned the kiss. It was one thing to hear that John wanted to be with him it was quite another to get actual physical proof of it. Although... John had never said that he wanted to be with Sherlock. He had only ever stated that he wanted to kiss him.

 

"It's the same thing," Sherlock tried to convince his overactive mind but gave up when a new kind of nervousness settled in his stomach. With a sigh he ended their kiss but made sure to hold onto John's hands as he led him to the kitchen chairs to sit down.

 

"Do I have to prepare myself for some big revelation?" There was a nervous tilt to John's lips as he smiled bravely up at Sherlock. "I think I can handle everything. If you are asexual that's fine. I also don't care if you have ever had sex or... maybe I am getting it wrong and you are actually in some really hardcore stuff. I would be willing to give that a try. And you also don't need to worry if you are transgender because as long as I can be with you then..."

 

"So you really want to be with me?" Sherlock had to ask just to give his mind something to hold onto even though John's little speech had made it obvious that he did.

 

"Yes as whatever you want."

 

"Boyfriends," Sherlock suggested and John chuckled.

 

"What?"

 

"It's just that I thought you would find that term too juvenile but I am fine with it," John explained and then a wicked grin lit up his whole face. "Come here then, boyfriend."

 

Sherlock was only too happy to oblige as John drew him into his lap and their lips met once more. This kiss was much more passionate. Their bodies were pressed together from chest to hips and every movement sent a spark of arousal through them.

 

One of Sherlock's hands was tangled in John's short hair while his other stroked down from his friend's shoulder to his hip and up again. He admitted to a little envy as John was able to grab his arse in this position and Sherlock didn't have the chance to get to John's. Still just being close to John like this after years of denying his own desires felt amazing. Soon Sherlock felt a stirring in his pants as most of his blood rushed south. He hadn't felt so aroused in years.

 

"Bedroom?" He asked between kisses as he felt an answering bulge through John's trousers.

 

"Yours or mine?" John kissed his way from his jaw to his neck which was the only reason why Sherlock needed a few seconds before he felt ready to reply. "Mine. Yours is too far away."

 

John didn't argue as they both stumbled to their feet and made their way towards Sherlock's bedroom. Upon closing the door behind them John drew him in his arms once more and Sherlock felt like melting right and then and there. He had never before experienced such passion and desire during a sexual encounter. They had always been hurried and about getting off as fast as possible. With John though it felt different. No correction it was different because John was different.

 

"Clothes?" It was a mere whisper. A suggestion into the otherwise silent room but it still sent a shiver down Sherlock's spine. 

 

"Off," he agreed to John's question.

 

They parted reluctantly to get rid of their clothes before they found each other again. Sherlock's hands roamed freely over John's back while his lover explored him freely as well. They were both completely hard by the time they stumbled onto the bed and had to disentangle their limbs for a bit. Laughter echoed through the room at their attempts to free their legs and arms without hurting each other in the process until they both came to lie on their sides, facing each other.

 

"God, you are so beautiful." 

 

Sherlock blushed at John's awed voice and had to swallow a few times before he found his voice again. "You aren't so bad looking yourself, Doctor Watson."

 

Tender fingers stroked over Sherlock's cheek as John regarded him with so much affection that Sherlock felt slightly uncomfortable. He wasn't used to people looking at him like this. As far as he could remember no one had ever bestowed such a look upon him. For a long time Sherlock had believed that he wasn't worthy of being regarded like this but it felt right when it was John who was looking at him.

 

"What do you want?" Sherlock didn't have a preference himself. As long as he was allowed to touch John, he was more than happy.

 

A thoughtful look entered John's eyes as he glanced from Sherlock to his nightstand. "Do you have lube?"

 

Sherlock nodded and rolled towards his nightstand to retrieve it from the drawer before he moved to face John once more. His lover took the tube from him and squeezed some of it onto his own hand before offering it to Sherlock as well.

 

"Like this?" John met his eyes as he reached for his cock and Sherlock nodded his agreement as he closed his hand around John's own hard length.

 

It took some twisting and stroking until Sherlock realised just how John liked to be touched. He preferred a tighter grip than Sherlock did himself and a firm stroke with a twist of his wrist when he reached the head of his cock.

 

John was a fast learner in regards to his preferences as well and Sherlock couldn't hold back a groan when John used his free hand to massage his balls. Who would have thought that such a simple act could feel so amazing?!

 

"Kiss me," he breathed and John obliged right away.

 

Their lips were locked in a passionate kiss only interrupted by their groans and moans as they stroked each other off. It wasn't the most unusual position that Sherlock had ever tried but it was extremely satisfying all the same. The feeling of John's cock in his hand and how it swelled and twitched as Sherlock increased the pace of his strokes was utterly erotic. It was more arousing than it had any right to be but Sherlock wasn't fit to analyse his own reactions right now. Not when John tightened the grip on his cock. 

 

Sherlock couldn't tell how long it was - if minutes or hours - until he felt the tension in his balls grow and he knew that he was close. But he didn't want to come. Not yet. Not when he held John in his hand like this and...

 

"Come for me, Love. Let it go."

 

The words only registered in a far away part of Sherlock's brain but it was still enough to give his body the right signals. John stifled Sherlock's moan with his own mouth as Sherlock came hot and sticky between them. He couldn't remember the last time he had come this hard if he ever even had. His body felt drained of any energy and Sherlock all but melted into the mattress as the last shudders of his orgasm ran through him. There was no way he would move a single muscle in the next hour.

 

"Let me," John murmured and Sherlock was happy to leave his hand on his lover's cock as John closed his own hand around his and began to stroke. Sherlock only kept his eyes open by the sheer force of his will as he watched John jerk himself off with his hand. He memorised the pearls of sweat that ran down John's chest and how his jaw tightened as he got closer to the edge only to relax as he finally came with a choked cry.

 

They lay in silence as they got their breathing back under control until the sticky mess between them became too uncomfortable.

 

"Flannel," John muttered as he stumbled out of the bed and returned a few moments later with a wet towel to wipe them both off.

 

Sherlock drew the covers back and they cuddled close together underneath them as they both drifted towards sleep. Sherlock was certain that he would have given in to his body's need for rest if it hadn't been for John's voice. "If we do this you have to promise me never to say the words of my Soul Tattoo before going to sleep."

 

Sherlock glanced at John as he lay next to him in the afternoon sun, relaxed and completely open and nodded. "I won't for as long as I can help it. You must promise me to do the same though."

 

John's eyes flickered to the Soul Tattoo on Sherlock's arm and a smile ghosted over his face. "I promise that I won't for as long as possible."

 

They both fell asleep soon after. Sure in the knowledge that they had found their soulmate in each other and hopeful that they would have many years to spend together before they got the final proof.


	3. A Lifetime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last chapter of this story. I had a lot of fun writing it and I would be thrilled if you let me know what you think about it. =)

### A Lifetime 

-51 years later-

 

"The honey is delicious this year, Sweetheart." John added another spoonful of the rich, golden liquid to his tea. Until a few years ago he had preferred it unsweetened but his taste had changed in this regard. A lot had changed to be exact.

 

John glanced at his lover of fifty-one and husband of forty-eight years as he pushed his reading glasses up on his nose while he studied the crime section of the newspaper. It had been a real fight to get Sherlock to admit that he needed reading glasses. John chuckled quietly as he recalled one of their more memorable arguments about it.

 

"Could you please read the shopping list out to me before we leave? I want to make sure that we haven't forgot anything."

John hid his smirk behind his hand as Sherlock took the piece of paper in his hand and held it at arm's length to read it. In the end he only scoffed in annoyance and crumbled the list in his hands.

"Hey! Just because you can't read it doesn't mean that we don't need it!"

"You might need a shopping list but I have everything in here." Sherlock sneered as he tipped against the side of his head and John rolled his eyes at him.

"I give you that your mind is as sharp as ever but you never remember that we need milk or butter or eggs or meat or pasta or vegetables and fruit. Instead you will load our supermarket trolley with all your favorite sweets. You forget the most important things."

The only warning John got was the dangerous gleam in dark blue eyes before he was grabbed by the shoulders and pushed into his favorite armchair.

"I forget the most important things, you say?" The question was a mere growl as Sherlock bent forwards to kiss John hungrily. "I didn't forget that you like this." Sherlock nipped playfully at his lower lip. "Or this." He flickered John's earlobe with his tongue and then sucked on it. A moan escaped John and his eyes slipped shut in utter bliss as Sherlock nipped and sucked at his exposed throat.

"I also remember that you like this."

John's eyes snapped open as Sherlock opened his trousers with skilled fingers and he lifted his hips to allow his husband to pull them down together with his pants before he could think about it twice.

"Sherlock, your knees," he made the effort to protest as his lover sank down between his spread legs but a lick over the head of his cock silenced him.

"I recall exactly how you like it." Sherlock grinned up at him before he proved his words.  
John could only sigh and moan while he clenched the armrests of his chair as his husband sucked him off. He hadn't promised too much Sherlock knew exactly what John liked. A hard grip around his shaft and a fast stroke combined with sucking and licking at its head. John groaned when Sherlock nipped at his foreskin with his lips and then pressed his tongue to the upper side of his cock and sucked hard.

Oh God, but John was getting closer as Sherlock picked up his pace and rolled John's balls in his hand at the same time. John forced his eyes open to look down at Sherlock. His curls - that popped up and down with every movement - were as thick as ever. The only difference was in their color. They were white instead of dark by now but John liked that. He liked every new wrinkle on Sherlock as it showed that they were aging together. The thought aroused John more than it had any right to and before he knew it he was hovering on the edge of his orgasm. 

"Sherlock..."

Blue eyes snapped up to him and the adoration and desire that were mirrored in them did it for John. He came with a choked cry in Sherlock's mouth until he believed that he had dried out completely.

John sagged back in his armchair as Sherlock let go of him. It took him longer to get his breathing and heart rate back under control than twenty years ago when Sherlock had catalogued John's reactions to a blowjob for the first time. John smiled at the memory of their awkward first sexual encounters before they had learned what they each enjoyed.

He must have gotten lost in his thoughts a little because the next thing he noticed was a hoarse cry and a warm splatter on his thigh.

John cracked his eyes open to look at Sherlock. His lover had obviously just come all over the lower part of the armchair and John's legs as proven by the cooling wetness on John's skin. The relaxed and blissful look on Sherlock's face as he slowly came down from his height was also a dead giveaway.

"You know you could have got up and we could have continued in the shower." John glanced at the spots on the leather of his armchair and sighed. It had been worth it but still...

"No, I couldn't have."

John raised an eyebrow at his lover who sheepishly looked up at him. "Yes, you could have."

"No John, I really couldn't... my knees."

Heat crept into high cheekbones as John chuckled and got slowly to his feet before he offered Sherlock his hands to help him up. All the jumping from rooftop to rooftop hadn't done Sherlock's knees any good. And John didn't even want to imagine how badly Sherlock had treated his body while hunting Moriarty's network down. Honestly he didn't want to imagine anything from that horrible time when he had believed Sherlock dead for two years. John was only grateful that they had only got together afterwards. A year after Sherlock's resurrection to be exact.

"Let's take a shower and get dressed so that we can get to the shops."

"What's the sudden hurry?" John raised an eyebrow as he followed Sherlock to the bathroom. His husband was never keen on doing the shopping.

"We need to go to the optician. I need glasses if I want to be able to analyze your expression up close to know what goes through your head."

John chuckled at that. "You just noticed that?"

"Yes!"

The one word had a finality to it that stopped John from asking any more questions. He was just glad that he wouldn't get the newspaper in the face anymore when Sherlock held it at arm's length to read it in the morning.

 

"What are you laughing about?"

 

Sherlock threw the newspaper to the side - obviously there hadn't been a worthwhile crime - and covered his croissant in honey. John had stopped to protest whenever Sherlock indulged his sweet tooth because... why should he? Sherlock had turned 82 a couple of months ago and John was 86 himself. At such ages it appeared stupid to deny themselves such small pleasures especially as they were both still rather fit. John assumed that it had a lot to do with the fresh air in the countryside. 

 

The countryside! Thirty years ago John wouldn't have believed anyone if they had told him that they would one day live in the cottage they had once bought as a holiday home. He had believed that they would always stay in London - at 221B Baker Street to be exact. After Mrs. Hudson's death though and when more and more criminals had managed to outrun them and the staircase had got harder to climb each day...

 

"John? Care to share with me why you were laughing?"

 

John blinked himself back to the present. Sometimes he got lost in thoughts. At first Sherlock had worried about it but when it didn't become worse than the occasional drifting of his mind his husband just accepted it as a part of getting older. And he found some humor in it as the smile proved that he directed at John over the kitchen table.

 

"I just remembered the day when you finally decided to get reading glasses."

 

It was obvious to John that Sherlock remembered the exact details of that day as a dirty smirk took over his face. "Good that we had that argument so long ago. I wouldn't be able to get down on my knees for you like this anymore."

 

John snorted into his tea. "You haven't been able to get on your knees like this for the last ten years." 

 

"I didn't have much motivation to try," Sherlock shot back.

 

Years ago such an exchange would have let to a full-blown fight but now they only burst out in laughter. It was true after all, John hadn't been able to achieve and keep an erection in almost ten years now. At least not without some chemical assistance and they had only used the little blue pills a handful of times. Only when they had both wanted to enjoy a long, lazy afternoon of lovemaking.

 

They mostly stuck to cuddling for hours now and John was perfectly fine with it. He only feared that Sherlock got bored to lie in bed for so long at times. His husband was still fitter than John. He could be found conducting experiments in his lab - the altered garden shed - or taking a walk on the beach. That was when he wasn't busy reading in the garden - or in front of the fireplace during the winter months. And while he had stopped to take care of the beehives himself last year he could still be found observing how Arianne - their beekeeper- worked with his bees almost every day in the spring and summer. 

 

John's days were filled with far less activities. Sure he still enjoyed to read a good book but he didn't write himself anymore. He had stopped after the last book about Sherlock's and his adventures had been published and the arthritis in his fingers had become too painful for him to type for long. Sometimes he took a walk through their garden but not much further. It was hard to navigate his steps on the uneven roads when he already needed a cane just to get around his own home. The only thing he was still good at was making tea but that was laughable in comparison to what Sherlock could still do.

 

"I like to cuddle with you for hours and I like how you make tea for us every day. Besides I am four years younger than you are and you were still tending to our flowers and vegetables three years ago." A smile wrinkled Sherlock's face and John took the hand that reached across the kitchen table towards him. "I love you. And I love my life with you."

 

John swallowed the heavy lump in his throat and returned Sherlock's smile as he grabbed his hand as hard as he could. "I love you too and what we have built together." After a second he added: "How did you know what I was thinking? Did I talk out loud again or..."

 

Sherlock shook his head with a soft smile. "No, it were some simple deductions. After talking about blowjobs you glared at your lap and then glanced towards our bedroom with a wistful smile on your lips. Your eyes then shifted to the glass of honey and then towards the window that overlooks the beehives and part of the garden. It got even clearer when you glared at your cane afterwards only to look ruefully at our tea pot at second later."

 

"Brilliant!"

 

Sherlock ducked his head and smiled at the praise. "It was just a simple observation."

 

John chuckled. Leave it to Sherlock to still be as brilliant at such an age as he was when they met. At least some things would never change.

 

They finished their remaining breakfast in silence and then Sherlock nodded to the car keys. "Would you like to drive over the Mrs. Taylor's house? We could play with the new puppies and take Roger for a picnic at the beach."

 

Roger was Mrs. Taylor's oldest dog with his sixteen years and the grandfather to the newest litter of puppies. Her house had easier access to the beach than theirs so that even John could manage to go down to sit in the sand.

 

"Sounds good, let's do this."

 

OOO

 

"It's so peaceful."

 

John let his gaze wander over the empty beach to were the waves broke on the shore. The sky was clear and the autumn sun warm enough that he only needed one jumper as he reclined on their blanket. 

 

"It certainly seems like it."

 

John rolled his eyes at Sherlock's wording and raised an eyebrow at him as his husband sneaked Roger a sausage. The dog chewed it enthusiastically and then laid down with his head in Sherlock's lap.

 

"He deserves a little treat after looking after his grandchildren for so long." 

 

John just shook his head at that. "All Roger did was lay there while some of the pups climbed all over him. We did more work when we stroked them."

 

"And Roger is older in dog years than we are so he deserves more praise for less."

 

John couldn't argue with this logic and so he didn't as they continued to watch the sea and enjoy the fresh air. Only when the sun moved further west and the waves turned orange as they reached the beach did John break the silence.

 

"Would you like another one?" He didn't need to add that he was referring to the puppies. Mrs. Taylor had already offered him one as soon as they were weaned from their mother. John was damn sure that Sherlock had taken a special liking to the cheeky one that had licked first his face and then stuck her tongue into his ear. Her fur was black expect for her brown paws and ears. She would make an impressive figure once she had grown to her full height. As the pup of a Bernese mountain dog and another large bred - that John couldn't remember - she was sure to become huge. Probably as big as Kayla had been once she had been full-grown.

 

To his surprise Sherlock shook his head. "It wouldn't be fair to the dog," Sherlock explained at John's questioning look. "She wants to run around and play. I could still play fetch with Kayla and chase around the beach after her when she was a puppy but that was eighteen years ago. I wouldn't be able to provide the same things for Irene. Yes, I was allowed to name her," Sherlock added with a content smirk.

 

John had to admit that Sherlock had a point there. They had had Kayla - a German shepherd crossbred - until she had died three years ago. It hadn't been a problem to provide her with what she needed till the end. Then again she hadn't wanted to run around all day anymore like when she had still been fit. Sherlock was right they weren't able to look after such a young dog anymore. Nevertheless John felt a little sad that Sherlock would never get to play with a dog again like he used play with Kayla. At the same time it also meant that John would never have to clean two muddy idiots with the garden hose again.

 

"What have you done?"

John didn't know what his expression looked like but he was sure that it showed a mixture of amusement, shock and exasperation as he took in his husband and Kayla. Somehow both Sherlock and their dog had managed to get covered in mud from head to toes - or paws in one case. He couldn't decide if Sherlock's curls were in more knots than Kayla's fur or if it was the other way around. John only knew that it would take ages to brush them out and that their five-year old dog would be more patient than his 72 year-old husband.

"I thought you were just taking her for a walk on the beach." John sighed heavily and that was when he noticed the puddles of water that were forming around both troublemakers. He wasn't wearing his glasses that was why he hadn't realised sooner that they were both drenched.

"What the..." he started only to be interrupted by Sherlock. "We were exploring another part of the beach when we discovered a small contributing stream that empties into the ocean. Kayla here decided that we needed to figure out if it was sweet or salt water and..."

"Is this your way of telling me that you both jumped into a small stream that originates from God knows where and played around in it like little children?" John really had to work on his rants because they had no effect on either Sherlock or Kayla. While one beamed at him proudly the other one barked at him playfully.

"Actually I will figure out where it comes from once I have run some tests. I have taken some samples of the water and..."

"Hey, where do you think you are going?" John put his hands onto his hips as he moved in the way of his husband and their dog. "If you think I will let you into the house like this you are mistaken. Take off your clothes!"

"John, are you sure here is the right place to do this kind of stuff?" Sherlock winked at him but John only scoffed. "If you believe I will have sex with you when you are wet and dirty then..."

"You never minded shower sex before. Or sex in the whirlpool. Or in a public swimming pool after closing hours. Or by that little lake in Ireland that one time, you know where I..."

"I am getting the garden hose now and if you haven't undressed when I am back only one of you will sleep in the house tonight. Yes Kayla, that's right it won't be Sherlock," he added to their dog as she wagged her tail at him. 

By the time John had come back with the garden hose his husband had managed to undress himself completely. John didn't spare a look at Sherlock's body - how he managed to stay so lean by the amount of sweets he ate would always be a mystery - and instead turned the water on. He had regulated the water jet to a light spray and pointed it directly at Sherlock.

"Cold! John, that's cold!"

Laughter bubbled up in John's throat and he barely managed to hold the garden hose steady as he watched Sherlock scrub himself hard while dancing from one foot to the other as Kayla jumped around him happily. Obviously she hadn't realised yet that a bath - complete with dog shampoo - was in the future for her.

"You can warm yourself up in the sun until you are dry while I bath Kayla." John laughed even harder at the mock glare Sherlock threw his way while Kayla's ears perked up in alarm at the word "bath".

God help him but John truly loved these two more than anyone else in the world. If that meant that he was crazy, he was more than fine with it.

 

"She was a wonderful dog and she loved it when she got a shower from the garden hose."

 

This time John didn't ask how Sherlock knew what he had been thinking about. He merely offered his hand to his husband as they watched the sun set in the ocean and turn the waves dark red. They sat there until the first stars appeared in the sky and a shiver ran through John's body as a cold breeze ruffled his remaining hairs.

 

"We should head back."

 

They found their way to Mrs. Taylor's house without trouble even in the dark. After a heartfelt goodbye from Roger, the puppies and their motherly neighbor they followed the well-known streets back to their cottage. Back home.

 

OOO

"Have you locked all the doors?"

 

"Yes, John," Sherlock replied even as he rolled his eyes. Who would think of breaking into the cottage of two old men. When they had first moved here Sherlock had understood why John always wanted all the doors and windows to be locked. It wasn't just a habit from their days in London but also a logical security measure. Together they had brought more criminals to prison than any police officer of their time and it stood to reason that some people would seek revenge for that. Now though they shouldn't have to worry about such things. Most of the people they had helped to arrest were dead or too old themselves to pose a threat. And everyone else only knew the consulting detective Sherlock Holmes and his partner Doctor John H. Watson from the books that his husband had published. For the younger generations they were nothing more than a beloved crime fighting duo. Oddly enough Sherlock was happy about that development. In the years and even decades to come when they were both long gone people all around the world would still know that John and he had belonged together. It gave him a peace of mind that not even the publishing of his book about beekeeping had brought him. 

 

"Are you coming to bed?"

 

"Yes, John."

 

Sherlock gave their living-room one last glance before he went to their bedroom. They had moved it from the first floor to the ground floor ten years ago when John had started to lean more heavily on his cane and Sherlock's knees had protested climbing the stairs every day. At the time it had felt strange that the window opened to the east side and allowed the morning sun in their room. Now though as Sherlock climbed into bed next to John everything felt perfect - right.

 

They lay facing each other as Sherlock felt compelled to say it: "Goodnight, John."

 

A smile appeared on John's face as he stroked Sherlock's cheek with his finger. "Sleep well, my love."

 

There was neither surprise nor regret written on John's face only acceptance and complete contentment. Sherlock knew that his eyes reflected the same emotions as he brought his lips to his soulmate's one last time. They fell asleep with their hands intertwined and smiles on their faces.


End file.
